Mortified
by scribblingnellie
Summary: While her mum's warning her off him, Molly Hooper knows how she feels about Greg Lestrade. But she doesn't know how he feels about her. What's a girl to do? Just a little romantic one-off drabble to keep a fangirl going, waiting for series 3! Enjoy.


"How about Tuesday? I can come round then and help you pick curtains."

"_Well if you're sure darling. I mean I don't want to take up too much of your time."_

Shuffling papers with her free hand, Molly surveyed her desk. One word, mess.

"Honest Mum, it's no problem. I haven't seen you for a while. It'll be nice to catch up."

"_Ok love, pop by about 11, I'll put the kettle on."_

"Lovely. Don't go to too much trouble..."

"_Of course I won't. You know me darling."_

Yes, thought Molly with a smile playing across her lips, she knew her mother very well. It'd be two types of cake for tea, plus biscuits just in case.

"Then I'll see you Tuesday."

"_Oh and Molly..."_

"Yeah?"

"_Do think about what I said. About that man..."_

"Mum." She'd promised she wouldn't push Molly on it.

"_...I know, I know darling, but I worry about you."_

And Molly knew her mother would never stop worrying about her.

"He's not Jim. He's the exact opposite."

"_With everything that's happened, I just want you to be careful."_

Molly could hear the concern in her voice. As much as she would've liked to have kept what happened from her mum, once the inquiry started up and there'd been reporters and Mycroft's people coming and going, explanations had become necessary. She'd spared her mum from what she could, but had to mention Jim.

"Somehow Mum I think with him I'd be a lot safer... I mean he is a policeman, a Detective Inspector."

"_Yes, I know that."_

"Sorry," Molly sensed the rebuke in her mum's voice. "He was really kind, he was there for me."

"_He was, Molly. But he's an older man..."_

"So? Being 15 years older than me doesn't make him any less suitable."

"_An older, married man, darling."_

Closing her eyes, Molly slowly let her breath out. Was her mum trying to put her off? Worrying her daughter wasn't in a relationship while trying to discourage her at the same time.

"Divorced now. He told me his divorce came through two weeks ago."

"_Still..."_

"No, Mum. There's no 'still' about it. He's good, kind, honest... he's a gentleman. I like him..."

Molly stopped. It was true. She did like Greg Lestrade. How he'd checked up her during the inquiry, despite being under investigation himself. How he smiled and his eyes would light up. How he texted her to make sure she had stopped for lunch. Caring, friendly gestures.

"...but anyway you don't need to worry. He's not interested in me. Not in that way."

"_Well, just be careful darling. Promise?"_

"Yeah, ok. I will, Mum."

"_Thank you. I'll see you Tuesday. Bye."_

"Bye."

Swiping to end the call, Molly stared down at her mobile. Well, that was true as well - Greg didn't like her in that way. Sure, he'd been kind and friendly and a gentleman, but Molly had never picked up on anything more.

Sighing, she pushed herself up out of the chair. Phone calls with her mum, love her as she did, usually left Molly feeling a little low. Best to get back to the reports on the morning's bodies. Work was always a welcome distraction – it'd seen her through the inquiry and through Sherlock's return. It would have to be her substitute, once again, for a love life.

Gathering the disheveled pile of papers from her desk, slipping them into the folder, Molly turned and headed back into the lab.

And there he stood. Greg. Watching her from the other side of the empty autopsy table, hands in his coat pockets, his eyes fixed on her. Molly froze. How long had he been there? She could feel a blush creep across her cheeks. Mortified, she looked away, her voice lost in her embarrassment.

"Hey Molly," Greg broke the silence, ".. I was just returning these. You left them behind yesterday. At Sherlock's."

Placing her gloves on top of the table, Greg stepped back, turning to go.

Say something, Molly told herself.

"...thank you... Greg?"

He stopped. Looking back at her, he tilted his head, standing in his quiet contemplative way. Molly wasn't sure what she was reading in his eyes. Was he upset? Confused?

"..I'm.. I'm sorry.. about the phone call. My mum... she's just putting two and two together and making five.. you know."

Running a hand through his hair – Molly felt her heart give a little jump at the gesture – he turned away and then back again, as though he's wanted to say something then changed his mind.

"Molly... when I said, yesterday, that if you needed anything.. anything at all, just ask."

"Of course I do..."

She remembered how Greg had leaned across Sherlock's kitchen table, proffering her the mug of tea between the tangle of science equipment and their friend's latest experiment. How he'd smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. And his tie coming loose at its knot.

"I meant it." Walking slowly round towards her, Greg put his hands back in his coat pockets, not taking his eyes from Molly. "...and every time I said it before, during the inquiry, when Sherlock jumped, when he came back..."

He'd reached her, standing right in front of her. Molly watched him take his hands out of his pockets, her heart beating faster as he placed them on her arms.

"...I know, Greg. I know you meant it.."

"And I didn't mean it just as a friend.."

Molly started. Looking into his brown eyes, she knew what she was seeing. His hand gently moved along her arm, resting on her shoulder, briefly but hesitantly cupping her cheek.

"No?"

With both hands holding her face, Greg shook his head. "No."

Calming her breathing, Molly tried to filter it all through her mind. Here he was, the kind, handsome silver haired detective, staring into her eyes. Telling her in his roundabout way how he really felt.

"All this time?" she asked, slightly incredulous.

Greg nodded. "Since that Christmas."

Molly laughed softly. She still cringed at the memory of how mortified she'd been at Sherlock's deduction. But it'd been sweetened by the memory of Greg's chivalry. Taking Sherlock down a couple of pegs while he thought Molly was out of earshot. Sharing a cab home with her, just to make sure she was ok.

"...Greg, I'm sorry. I feel a bit ...stupid. All this time and I didn't realise. I..."

"No, don't be," he said, brushing a stray hair off her face, letting his hands rest on her shoulders, "I knew it wasn't right. Not then anyway. I mean, me being an older, married man and all that."

Molly smiled at his teasing tone "So, you waited?"

"Yes, For you Molly Hooper, I'd wait however long it takes."

And how often did a woman hear that? Molly closed her eyes and willed her heart to calm down. A gentle touch under her chin, and she opened her eyes. Greg was leaning in towards her.

"May I?"

Molly nodded, and they kissed. Lips gently brushing, she slid her arms round Greg's neck. Breathing him in, feeling his kiss become firm and confident.

"Fancy dinner tonight?" he asked, a little breathless, when they broke apart.

Nodding, Molly grinned.

"Yes, please."


End file.
